Gentle Hands
by lalapine
Summary: Continuation of "Memento Mori"


TITLE - Gentle Hands  
AUTHOR - Tammy M. Parnell  
EMAIL ADDRESS: LaLapine@aol.com  
DISTRIBUTION STATEMENT: Anywhere, as long as my name & disclaimer are on it  
SPOILER WARNING: Memento Mori  
RATING: PG  
CLASSIFICATION: S, A, R  
SUMMARY: Continuation of Memento Mori.  
DISCLAIMER: The X-F PTB (1013, CC, FoxTV, GA, DD, etc.) own everything but my words. Elton John's beautiful song used without evil intent. :)  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I just want to thank all of the x-philes who read my stories and enjoy them (esp. Boots, Eleanore, Anna, Syz, Lisa, Ina, Dusina, Arwen, Pam, and Kim). I love to hear from you. Hope you like my latest!   
  
  
Gentle Hands  
by Tammy M. Parnell  
  
A hand. It was a miraculous object, really. Four fingers and a thumb, able to carve wood, pull a trigger, play an instrument, save a life. The brain sent the know-how; the hand did the rest.  
  
Agent Fox Mulder sat silently in the hospital waiting room, eyes focused on his clasped hands. He could remember so many times when he had used those hands to cuff a suspect, sign his name, flip through channels on the remote... They were evolutionary miracles in themselves, he knew. But even more miraculous was when they could reach out to touch someone, stroke a soft cheek, and clasp hands in reassurance, faith, love.  
  
So many times Fox had wanted to reach out, feel her warmth, hold her tight so he would never lose her again. But he had resisted on the grounds of professionalism. They both had. It was enough most times just to be close.  
  
He let his head fall back against the wall, and he noticed for the first time that music was floating softly through the sterile room, blending in with the typical sounds of doctors being paged, nurses flipping through charts, and worried relatives inquiring about patients. It was a tune he'd never heard before, yet its melody haunted him as he focused on the words.  
  
Yesterday you came to lift me up  
As light as straw and brittle as a burr  
Today I weigh less than a shadow on the wall  
Just one morseful of a voice unheard  
Tomorrow leave the windows open  
As fear grows please hold me in your arms  
Won't you help me if you can to shake this anger  
and knead your gentle hands to keep me calm  
Cause I never thought I'd lose  
I only thought I'd win  
I never dreamed I'd feel this fire beneath my skin  
I can't believe you love me...  
Things we never said come together  
The hidden truth no longer haunting me  
Tonight we touched on things that were never spoken  
That kind of understanding sets me free  
Cause I never thought I'd lose  
I only thought I'd win  
I never dreamed I'd feel this fire beneath my skin  
I can't believe you love me...  
  
Blinking back tears, Fox took a deep breath and tried to settle the turmoil that was his mind. He ignored the tightening of his heart as he focused once again on his hands.  
  
They were strong hands, he knew. Yet now they were useless, as were hers. Small as she seemed to be, she radiated strength, using her petite form for all its worth. Though half his size, she could pull him to safety if need be, had done so on more than one occasion, in fact, and could give a brute of a suspect a run for his money. She was tough, strong, and brave, but she could be as gentle as a mother with a newborn baby. Times too numerous to count she had come to him, saved him, held him, fed him comfort. Her hands were so strong that way, so capable. But even with the strength of their forceful bond, their efficient teamwork, they could not fight this enemy. No one could.  
  
His ears instantly focused on the sound of familiar footsteps approaching down the corridor. He was at her side in an instant, resisting the urge to hold her as he had earlier, though the temptation was strong. Her hand gripped the small suitcase he had brought her the previous day, and her face gave a slight smile.  
  
He knew better than to take the suitcase from her. Instead he did his best to return her smile and asked, All ready?  
  
Mm-hm. The nurse already checked me out.  
  
Mulder nodded, his palm on the small of her back as they walked comfortably out to the car. He had never told her that he would be waiting for her to drive her back home, and she had never asked him to do so. It was simply understood between them, as much of their unspoken words were.  
  
The drive to her apartment was in silence, both agents exhausted from their all-night vigil, Dana for her friend Penny, and Mulder for Dana. And she had the effects of the chemo to keep her eyes heavy as well.  
  
Once there, Mulder took her suitcase from the trunk and carried it to her living room, no protests from his weary partner. She immediately sunk down into the soft cushions of her couch as he poured her a glass of water, setting it nearby on the coffee table. She nodded her thanks, trying to stifle a yawn.  
  
You should go to bed, Scully, he hinted gently.  
  
A glimmer of a smile traced her lips as she spoke, I bet you use that line on all the girls.  
  
She was happy to see the expected grin appear on her partner's face as he added, Only the really special ones.  
  
His words served as a magnet as she scooted against the warmth of his body, his arm circling her shoulders protectively, his lips lightly kissing the top of her head. Her eyelids were too heavy to keep open now, and she drifted quietly into sleep.  
  
Fox listened to her gentle, steady breathing, thanking whatever invisible power that had allowed him to have her as a friend, an ally, an extension of himself. Her belief in him and his quest, her loyal devotion, and her insurmountable support was what kept him going, kept him safe. He cherished the twist of fate that had brought her into his life, yet he cursed it as well. Though he knew she felt the strength of their bond and would be loath to give it up, had in fact told him that she would not have changed a thing, he knew that she could exist without him. Her life certainly would have been drastically altered had she never met him, and he couldn't help but feel that it would have been for the better. She would not have had to face the horrible things they had seen, would not have had to feel responsible for the murder of her sister--her sister would still be alive--, and would not have to put her life in an upheaval every time he did something stupid.  
  
And she would not be dying.  
  
Unconsciously, his arms tightened around her as he closed his eyes against the pain of the thought. He had told her they would get through this, and he meant it. But the fear was still there, the impending loss that would swallow him whole if she were to disappear. He could not--would not--let it happen.  
  
***  
  
The early morning rays of glittering sun warmed her face, and for a moment, she wondered where she was. Taking a deep breath, she snuggled in closer to her enjoying the especial comfort of the previous night. She loved his unique scent, and his arms around her made her feel safe. But it dawned on her then that she was not really safe--and might not ever be again.  
  
The body beside her shifted in awakening, and she reluctantly left his embrace.  
  
she said somewhat self-consciously.  
  
Hey, Scully. How you feeling?  
  
I'm fine. She uncomfortably cleared her throat before rising. Want some coffee?  
  
He remained seated on the sofa while she busied herself with the coffee pot. They were silent until she reseated herself next to him as she waited for their drink to brew.  
  
She sighed and looked down at her hands. Usually so strong, so independent, last night had definitely been an anomaly. This was no surprise considering what she'd been through. But in spite of her career accomplishments, she was human after all. She did crave comfort and warmth, love and affection. Still, she felt she owed her partner an explanation for the shedding of her defenses.  
  
Mulder, about last night...  
  
You don't have to say anything.  
  
She looked at him then. Yes, I do. I need to explain... But she was at a loss for words. I just don't know how.  
  
He watched her sympathetically. As much as he wanted to reach out to her and hold her, he knew it was not what she needed right then. He waited.  
  
She was confused. Her emotions--fear, determination, hope, anger, love--they were all in conflict with one another, leaving her unable to form coherent reasoning. She was dying, but she was alive. She wanted to hurt someone for this cruel twist of fate, yet she couldn't help but enjoy her partner's support and strength that this event encouraged. Her mind wandered to the hospital corridor. His warmth, his love--it was what she needed, and she'd wanted to lose herself in him then, feeling that as long as they had each other, they could fight any battle. He was so important to her survival that it scared her. Knowing the feeling was mutual served only to intensify her fear.   
  
Taking a deep breath, she allowed herself to meet his concerned hazel eyes. She saw only understanding and caring in his depths, not shame or loss of respect. She smiled slightly, suddenly remembering the song that had captured her attention the night before as she prepared to leave the hospital. She'd known then how appropriate it was for the two of them, and as her own words refused to come, she decided to borrow those of Elton John.  
  
She cleared her throat and said quietly, Yesterday, you came to lift me up as light as straw and brittle as a burr. Today I weigh less than a shadow on the wall, just one morseful of a voice unheard. Tomorrow leave the windows open... Her throat felt tight, and her voice choked up as she looked down at her hands, so small, so frail, yet so strong. Suddenly, a larger, comforting hand shielded her own, and their fingers intertwined. A thumb lifted her chin to look into Mulder's face.  
  
His voice was rough with emotion as his eidetic memory recalled the words she had been unable to finish. Tomorrow leave the windows open. As fear grows please hold me in your arms. Won't you help me, if you can, to shake this anger and knead your gentle hands to keep me calm.  
  
Dana's heart tightened as he spoke. She leaned forward without hesitation and wrapped her arms around his chest, holding him close. She could feel his strong hands rubbing her back in comfort as she finally allowed herself to cry. She felt his body shaking slightly and realized, extremely touched, that he was crying, too.  
  
Mulder had been so determined to remain strong for his partner, but he had failed. Somewhere in the back of his mind he finally understood why Scully was so afraid to let him see her feelings, almost to the point of shame when it came to losing control in front of him. She wanted to protect him, to support him. And he wanted desperately to do the same for her. It meant being strong when the other needed it. But through his tears, he realized that allowing themselves to be weak was just as important.  
  
Even when the tears stopped, they remained close, brewed coffee forgotten. Emotions bottled up through the course of this latest ordeal had been shed, allowed expression, and now there was an emptiness--but it was one that left room for hope.  
  
It was a quiet question, the voice uncertain if the spell would be broken with words.  
  
Yes, Mulder? she answered, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest against her cheek.  
  
A few moments passed before he continued. If you love someone, the person you love, they can feel it... can't they?  
  
She smiled and tightened his hand into hers. Yes, Mulder. They can.  
  
THE END


End file.
